


There It Is

by CampionSayn



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Construction Worker!Lionheart is a thing, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, mild hints of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:12:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a part of themselves that they eventually embrace or put away when they realize they don't like it. The questions is whether or not two ex-coworkers can do that here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There It Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twilight_Shadow_Songs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Shadow_Songs/gifts), [cavale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavale/gifts), [thebronyphilospher](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thebronyphilospher).



_-:-_  
_"Stop being taller than me."_  
_-A Hard Day's Night._  
  
_-:-_  
_"Everyone's scared about something, you know?"_  
_-The Hurt Locker._

* * *

  
_There is the scarring under her wool from when she was five and wandered too far into the bad side of Downtown that still causes her pain when the sky goes so dark, the moon shines too full and bright, the clouds gather with enough rain to drown out the Meadowlands. There is the bell carried around on her neck that changes from Monday to Friday from pure gold to hand-blown glass that always makes her seem more delicate than she actually was. There is the considerably dated wardrobe she was allowed to have after leaving her cell, the prison system and Zootopia proper. There is an all-encompassing silence felt and heard throughout the entirety of the land left to her by her parents before they died that was not taken from her when the rest of her property was tagged and taken or put into a storage locker if she should ever get out from behind bars._  
  
Dawn sighed for about the twenty-thousandth time since she had walked through the door held up on rusty hinges and into the house she had not been back to since she was a teenager in a downy soft fleece with her very old mother and her even older father on the joint summer vacation they enjoyed before she was off to her early acceptance into Oxford University. She had been cleaning the place for the last few days of mildew in the kitchen, the heavy dust on all the furniture, the dried and crusted dirt that had somehow gotten into every corner of the flooring and so on; only pausing to go down to the river to pull up a bucket of water and out to one of her new hundred acres of forest and fields to pick snow white apples, sassafras, pin cherries, black berries and whatever else she could find.  
  
She was considering going out, walking the ten miles to the nearest town and buying milk and perhaps something more filling than what she'd been eating off the land since leaving prison and Zootopia all-together. She hadn't earned a tremendous amount of money in prison doing laundry and working in the kitchens, but it was enough to get her by, on top of what she'd managed to clean out of her old accounts, until she could get a job or could bring in some crops actually worth eating--whichever came first.  
  
Tossing her worn rag into the sink, the Babydoll ewe wriggled her knees to get the blood flow running through them and took a couple whacks to the dust coating the hem of her flannel shirt and the ruddy faded jean shorts she'd dug out of her old wardrobe chest from her early days in the city, "Not like a little walk would kill me..."

* * *

_There is the small collection of bills in his wallet that was usually skin tight and then was suddenly stuffed to bursting after he had pulled some funds from his meager bank account filled with checks he'd earned over the last three years laying sheet rock, filling cement mixers, pounding nails as big as his paws into wood that left slivers in each and every one of his fingertips. There is the stiffness in his knees and feet and tail after walking twenty miles from the train station to the bus station, sitting for only fifteen minutes in the almost refrigerated bus that was much appreciated after the time in the wicked summer sun, only to be dropped off at the stop across from the only food market because it was a Saturday and the buses only ran until five o'clock. There was the realization that he would have to look for directions in a small town composed almost entirely of Prey, that were not used to seeing Predators as big as him; the urge for caffeine hit and he ignored the goats and deer that had been eyeing him since his entrance and made for the sign with the neon teacup flashing mint green light every five seconds._  
  
Lionheart was glad to find that even in a place as out of the way as the town Bellwether had traveled four hundred miles to get to, they still had quite the selection of brews and teas to go that didn't cost a ridiculous amount.   
  
The tiny panda lady behind the counter eyed the shirt he had chosen for this particular venture--his construction partner Bucky joked that he looked like he was wearing a piece of fallen sky; Leodore tried not to let that be a barb against his learning that one should not wash cobalt blue cotton-polyester blend with bleach--rather than his figure as a something with sharper teeth and claws than herself, "One Primula size Golden Goodness cappuccino and one fried tuna sandwich, have a nice day."  
  
"Thank you," Leodore smiled, grabbing his order and relishing in the exceptionally fresh smells coming from his first meal since early morning when he'd made up his mind on visiting who he considered to be one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made--running to catch the only train out had been the result of being unable to make up his mind until five seconds before his alarm clock went off. He tucked a sizable tip into the little jam jar with 'For Good Karma' printed on the glass and cleared his throat so the panda would look up at his face instead of still staring at his shirt _(he really hoped she wasn't one of the obligatory stoners that existed in tiny places surrounded by nothing)_ , "Beg pardon, but, um, you wouldn't know how to get to the Bellwether property from here, would you?"  
  
The lady blinked up from what looked like a heart shaped cloud on the area just above his naval and appeared to think that over for a moment _(or maybe a little longer since he'd read somewhere that what constituted as a moment only lasted nine seconds and it took her at least thirty for her to respond)_.  
  
"You could ask the only Bellwether left over at the Milk  & Honey. She passed by while we were preparing your--"  
  
She didn't even need to finish before he was on the move, regardless of his knowing how rude that sort of thing was considered and how, had his mother been alive to hear about it, he would have had his ears cuffed on repeat--never mind that he was a grown lion and could punish himself fine.  
  
His legs moved of their own accord, it seemed, as words garbled out of his mouth a hasty goodbye around the sandwich he almost inhaled as he slammed the door open and the bell hanging over it made a most unpleasant sound and, from his impression not from him actually turning around, got torn from the string holding it up. It bounced.

* * *

_There is the awareness that there is actual emotion still available to her that is not petty, or manipulative, or a reaction to failure and desperation and depression that she learned to cancel out through therapy in prison. There is tightening of her hooves around the gallon of milk she'd just paid for that was likely to last her for a couple of weeks, as well as the coffee grounds she could grind at home and the potatoes that would give her far more energy than the berries out in the fields. There is the quiet realization that she should feel anger or outrage or something that just doesn't happen as she finds her mayoral predecessor waiting outside the shopping center, sipping something with hazelnut and caramel flavors._  
  
Bellwether hefted her paper bag of belongings onto her hip and huffed, "So, you found me."  
  
  
The member of the feline family _(the big shots that had long been the leading members of the aristocracy all over Europe, Africa, India and Egypt, but much more mellow, even in the old days, than his ancestors)_ sipped from his coffee cup and gave a polite smile with a long blink of his eyes that she tried not to think over in their current positions.  
  
"Mm-hm. I suppose it goes without saying that we have a few things to talk about, given that you never answered my questions when you were still in prison?"  
  
"...Very well," she sighed, grabbing the milk from her bag and holding it up to his hand level very pointedly, "But carry this and talk on the way; it's a long walk to my place from here and I don't want anything spoiling in this dreadful heat."  
  
The lion took the gallon of milk with ease and a polite head nod, following after the woman, her pace brisk even with the rest of her purchase being a little heavy from what he could tell. Then again, she used to carry heavy stacks of paperwork all around City Hall while following after him, so maybe he was just being a little too presumptuous of the strength in her tiny arms and legs.  
  
Leodore and Dawn both pretended not to noticed the looks of some wolf pups, elk calves and raccoon children that had been playing soccer in a vacant allotment across the street--they were quite a sight, they mentally agreed, why bother addressing the situation? 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I modeled Bellwether's property on the movie **Nell's** location in North Carolina.  
>  2\. I think we can all agree that Lionheart is both well meaning and kind of an ass.


End file.
